


He Was Ten

by insertfandomjoke



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Neglect, Gen, Sort Of, anyways i just want max to be loved okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 03:10:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11911986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertfandomjoke/pseuds/insertfandomjoke
Summary: Max's parents had never cared, but it takes him ten years to realise it. And boy, being ten is one hell of a ride.





	He Was Ten

Max was five years old when he tugged on his mother’s shirt, insisting she saw the finger painting he made when he was waved off with a “not now, Max.”

He looked at the illustration and figured that there was something wrong with it that made his mother so uninterested. _Duh,_ he realised, _it’s awful._ He looked up at the other paintings around the house, the ones that appeared to be directly out of a magazine for a barely lived-in home, and saw that they were so much better. He could never compare to those – so he chucked his painting away and scrubbed the word “art” off his mind forever.

He was six when he dug up an old softball and asked his dad to play catch in the yard, only to be told that “there were more important things to do.”

Max had let the ball drop to the floor as he slinked back to his room, where he was slowly beginning to spend more and more time. _Sport._ Yeah right. The other boys his age loved to run around, but that was only because they were _good_ at it. Max wasn’t. Therefore, he shouldn’t do it. That was just common sense. He threw his sporting equipment away the next day.

He was seven when he was given a science project to do and eagerly asked his parents to help him with it, but they waved him off.

He took the unfinished mess of paper, paint, vinegar and baking soda off the table so they could do their grown up work. The actually important stuff. This dumb little science project wasn’t going to help anyone, so why should Max even pretend to care? So, ignoring the disappointment in his heart, he stopped paying attention in class. Science was for losers, he decided.

He was eight when he received a magic trick set in the mail for his birthday and tried to put on a show – only for his parents to not even come out of their rooms.

Max sung himself happy birthday and set the box on fire, as he didn’t find any candles to light. The smoke alarm’s incessant ringing brought his parents rushing into the living room. They chastised him – obviously for even thinking about magic, right? – and sent him to his room without dinner. Whenever magic was brought up, Max was flung back to him curled under a blanket sobbing, while singing the saddest rendition of “Happy Birthday” anyone had ever heard.

He was nine when he decided to give up.

His parents didn’t even notice his lack of passion. All they cared about were his failing grades and poor behaviour reports – but hey, that meant they cared for him at least a little, right? So if acting awful was the only way to get their attention, then so be it! What could go wrong?

…Max was ten when they sent him off to summer camp without warning or a goodbye.

He was ten when he realised that his parents, whilst they didn’t hit him or call him names, had never really cared in the first place. He was ten when he saw that this wasn’t normal. He was ten when he knew that he wasn’t loved like every other kid.

He was ten when he met David.

David – David was different. He wasn’t like all the other sullen bastards in this world full of shit. He was positive and saw the best in people. Max wasn’t sure which was worse.

He also wasn’t sure why David tried so hard to pretend he gave a shit about every single camper who came through – because of course he didn’t, right? No one could possibly care that much, _right?_ David was abnormal, _surely._ But no matter what Max did, David still smiled at him.

He couldn’t stand it. He wouldn’t stick around and be _patronised_ like this. How dare this whiny pissbaby try to take pity on Max when it was obvious David, like everyone else, hated him too?! How dare he pretend to care so he can secure Max’s trust only to betray like every-fucking-one else?! How dare he-

Max was ten when he realised that his parents didn’t have to define him.

He was ten when David found out that they didn’t care, when Gwen looked at him not in anger but in sorrow, when they took him out for _pizza_ (and oh god, his parents would never), when they sat him down and told him that it wasn’t normal, that he didn’t have to forgive his shitty parents, that he _could_ be loved.

And he was ten and a half when he hugged David around the legs real quick and finally felt wanted.


End file.
